Shaken
by sherlockian4evr
Summary: With the words, "Brilliant. That was really quite extraordinary," John shakes the foundations of Sherlock's Mind Palace. Beta read by Sherlock1110.
Sherlock bounces on his toes as he runs Greg and John and eveyone that cares to listen through his deductions. He's on fire and he knows it. As he wraps up, Sherlock glances at John and what he sees hits him like a physical blow. It's admiration and wonder.

John smiles at him and says, "Brilliant. That was really quite extraordinary."

Inside Sherlock's head, inside his Mind Palace, the ground shakes and the walls tremble. Down in its darkest depths, two doors strain and finally give way. Feelings rush out of the door on the left, caring, consideration, love. They crash and mix amidst the tempest of desire that whirls from the door on the right. He's paralysed for one brief moment, then he gives a start and flees the crime scene, the tails of his Belstaff whipping and popping behind him.

Greg and John exchange looks. "What the hell was that about?" the DI asks.

John shakes his head. "I don't know, but I guess I'd best find out." With that, he heads back to Baker Street, hoping against hope that Sherlock will be there when he arrives.

Sherlock is there, but he doesn't even notice when John arrives. He's standing in the middle of the living with his fingers tangled in his unruly curls. Sherlock pulls on his hair and lets out a sound that's a cross between frustration and despair.

The doctor's heart breaks just a little. "Sherlock," he says quietly.

Sherlock jerks around and looks at John. The detective's eyes are wild and he looks like a cornered beast. He holds his hands out in front of him as if to ward John away. Backing up, he trips over a stack of books in the middle of the floor.

"Sherlock, please, you're scaring me." John edges closer slowly, trying not to distress the detective any further. "Sherlock, what's wrong?"

"The dungeon failed." They're the only words Sherlock can think of to say.

John kneels down and takes Sherlock's hand. "In your Mind Palace?" The doctor can't imagine what horrors his friend had locked away in there that are now roaming free. "What can I do?"

Sherlock looks down at where his hand is held by John's. The contact feels electric. There are actual jolts of energy shooting up his arm, there have to be, it doesn't matter that its illogical. "You..." He shakes himself and looks into John's eyes. "Don't you think you've done enough." God, he hates how weak and shaky his voice sounds!

"What?" John is taken aback and tries to pull his hand back, but Sherlock won't let him.

"You called me brilliant," the detective replies like it's the most logical thing in the world.

John's really confused now. Nothing Sherlock is saying makes sense. "And that's connected to your Mind Palace, how?"

"Feelings!" Sherlock spits. "Desires. I had them locked safely away." He gestures to his head. "But you came along like an earthquake and shattered the prison walls."

"Oh," John breathes softly. "Is that a bad thing?"

Sherlock hesitates. "Yes," he finally hisses. "You don't want that. You don't want me. It's nothing more than a hateful distraction." The detective closes his eyes. "I have to make it stop. I have sweep the corridors of my Mind Palace clean of sentiment and lock it away. No! Delete it." He drops John's hand and starts pounding on his head with his fists.

The doctor grasped Sherlock's wrists and held them. "Sherlock!" The detective doesn't respond. "Sherlock, Love! Look at me!"

At the use of the word 'love', Sherlock's eyes fly open. "What did you call me?" he asks, his voice urgent, not daring to be hopeful, not quite yet.

"I called you 'love'." John smiles at him and reaches for his curls to smooth them back from the detective's brow. "I've been calling you that in my head for months."

The feelings and desires that have been rampaging through Sherlock's Mind Palace slow down and start settling into place, finding a home in the room where the detective has stored every memory he has that is related to John. The way the doctor is looking at him, the whole thing seems a bit less dangerous. "You love me," Sherlock says with wonder.

"Yes," John agrees as a huge grin splits his face, "and I think you just said you love me." He shrugs, "Maybe not in so many words, but..." Sherlock cuts him off as he lunges for him and kisses John. It's sloppy and inexpert and, as far as the doctor is concerned, perfect in every way.

"Does this mean I don't have to delete it all? I can keep it and you?" Sherlock's voice is shaky with hope. John's next words could destroy him if they're the wrong ones.

John kisses him again, drawing it out longer than their previous kiss. "Don't you dare delete any if it, Sherlock Holmes. Keep every jot of it." He smiles at him, "And you'll never be able to get rid of me."


End file.
